


Weekends

by ObsessiveCompulsive



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Autistic Little x Neurotypical caregiver, Comfort No Hurt, Crossdressing, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveCompulsive/pseuds/ObsessiveCompulsive
Summary: After a long and tiring week of being adult, a pastel little boy gets to go on an exciting adventure with his Papa.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 30





	Weekends

**Author's Note:**

> So I've gathered my courage and decided to post my own work on AO3 instead of just waiting and hoping someone will come up to me and say "hey, will you edit me writing?" Lots of thanks and love to my Big Brother who painstakingly edited this story (and wouldn't accept my money as compensation). He's the best brother anyone could ever ask for.
> 
> "This was actually really good, i was honestly surprised. there's some issues with switching tenses randomly, and I had to fix a few grammar issues (replacing ; with, etc.) but overall it was very well done. it's something i would read."  
> \- Big Brother 2020

Weekends were very special days for Makoto Shimizu.

On weekends there was no work, no random emails from coworkers in the middle of the night informing him of the latest crisis. Only sunlight flickering into his eyes and a roughly calloused hand jolting his shoulder with just enough force to have sapphire eyes crack open. He blinked sleepily-- he had long gotten past the stage of jolting awake. Fear and panic didn’t consume him when staring into aurete eyes. 

“Good morning angel-face.” Masaru - no, he wasn’t Masaru right now - was already dressed and ready for the day; he had probably been up for hours. Makoto would have known this if he thought about it enough. But he didn’t think about it. He didn’t think of much of anything. Today was the weekend, so he didn’t have to.

“G-good morning...” Makoto’s words were interrupted by a flush that reached down to his chest. It wasn’t the right time to talk yet. The fluttery butterflies hadn’t settled down yet and words weren’t ready to burst forth.

His caregiver only smirked in response - the man hardly ever smiled - before ruffling Makoto’s golden tresses. “Come on now, let’s get you ready for the day. I promised to take you to the park, didn’t I?” Makoto squirmed at the mention of the park. Body rocking even in his horizontal position and hands fluttering at his sides. He had been waiting all week to go to the park.

With a strange mixture of jitters and joy, Makoto managed to throw the covers to the side. “P-papa! I want to go to the park!” The volume increased slightly and Makoto shrunk in on himself as his Papa placed his index finger towards his lip. It was still only about nine o’clock after all - still sleepy time for lots of people. 

Makoto mimicked the fiery-haired caregiver, placing his finger against his own mouth. Another smirk. Was that a good or bad smirk? It was followed by a kiss to the forehead - a good smirk then, because Makoto was being cute. 

Papa went off to the special closet then, filled with play clothes and pretty dresses. There was no need for stuffy dress shirts, ties, and vests on weekends. Only pretty pastels and hair ribbons. Makoto stared holes into his Papa’s back as he watched him shuffle and shift amongst the fabric. 

Papa was already dressed for going out. His black tank top was decorated with glinting silver studs across the sides - perfect for Makoto to play with. The chains that jangled and clattered against slightly muscular wrists shimmered in the early morning light, matching the choker and the miscellaneous chains that dangled around his hips. No eye makeup today - that wasn’t needed on the weekends unless Makoto wanted to play dress up. But strands of his fiery hair were braided and intertwined with feathers. His papa really was cool. 

“Honey, can you lift your arms up for Papa?” When did papa move away from the closet? Makoto nodded a little hard as his arms shot up into the air. Off went the happy sheep top, soon followed by its matching pants companions. It was a bit sad to see them go. What if the sheep got lonely without him? Papa had to snap his fingers to bring Makoto back, causing the taller one to giggle slightly. 

Papa replaced the sheep shirt with an oversized pink sweater and the pants with dark purple shorts. “Papa, how come you put me in shorts and a long sleeved shirt?” The question was asked while papa fumbled with tying Makoto’s matching pink converse.  
“Because Papa thought it would look cute. And Papa gets to make you look cute however he wants.” Butterflies and caterpillars fluttered and crawled within Makoto’s stomach at the statement, the very concept leaving his brain in a layer of fluffy cotton.  
“Ok Papa…” Makoto kicked his newly covered feet as his hair was gently tugged into a ponytail. His papa was so efficient. The ribbon’s strands hung and gently teased the back of Makoto’s now naked neck. He moved his head once, twice, thrice to feel the ribbons and locks delicately caress his neck. Each time was faster and faster - he only stopped when he got dizzy. 

Papa waited patiently for this little misadventure to end before offering up his hand to his little prince. Said prince’s laughter was clear as he gratefully accepted the hand. Makoto grabbed a little too hard as he was lifted up. Stood a little too close to his papa but papa only smiled. He only squeezed back quickly before leading his little boy out of the bedroom and down the hall. 

Sometimes, if Makoto is feeling extra responsible, he’s allowed to carry the important backpack. But today is not one of those days. So instead Papa throws on the crimson red backpack while Makoto carefully slips on a mini backpack, one that shimmers in the sunlight and can only hold a plushie friend, a coloring book, and a box of crayons. Makoto insists that both he and his Papa buckle their backpacks around their chests. Any other day Masaru would grumble and huff. Papa never grumbles and huffs unless Makoto is super naughty. 

They held hands as they walked down the street, their locked hands flying high in the air, forwards and backwards with each step as they walked down suburban streets. However, as the streets became busier, the flying went lower. The hand that wasn’t encased by his Papa’s had its knuckles cracked every time a person walked by. He almost tripped over Papa twice in his attempts to get as close as possible. Away from the strangers, away from the strange noises. 

Busses were fun when Makoto was big and tough. He would give his seat to nice old ladies and smile at their thanks He would chatter with anyone who would listen and laugh every time the bus swayed a little too much. Sometimes he made friends, sometimes he made people mad. That was ok though, because he had a lot of fun amongst the sea of people. Enough to ignore the icky feeling deep down inside. 

That icky feeling couldn’t be ignored though, not when the world was so much bigger than him. Even being out on the street, which was filled with different noises, different voices, and different sensations, was difficult to experience. Thank goodness for his Papa, a warm and solid presence directly to his left. For every other knuckle crack and stuttered breath and little twitch, there was a firm squeeze to his captured hand. 

Papa wanted to stop for coffee, so they stopped in front of one of those local coffee shops. Once, when Makoto asked why Papa didn’t go to Starbucks, Papa said it was because he wanted to give the normies a subtle middle finger. Makoto had slapped him on the shoulder after that. Papa had pretended it was hard. 

“Do you want to wait out here or do you want to come in with Papa?” A calloused hand rested on Makoto’s shoulder, compelling the little down just an inch in order for his Papa to whisper him the question. 

A difficult question to be sure. Because while the outside was less confined and there were prettier things to look at and absolutely no one’s attention on him, there was one problem. There was no Papa out on the streets. Makoto always wanted to be near Papa.

“I-I want to go with you, of course! How could you be so silly pa-” When Makoto thought about it, tried at it, he was a horrible whisperer. When he didn’t think about it and didn’t try, he could sound like a radio announcer. Thankfully, Papa was quick enough most of the time. Makoto giggled against the palm of the other’s hand, kissing it once, twice, before his Papa pulled away with a small (relieved?) chuckle. His eyes darted around as he led Makoto inside.

“Ah, of course, of course. Silly me.” Papa nodded along, weaving through the tables and sitting his partner down on one with a view, watching the blonde watch the dozens of people mill about outside for a minute before getting into line. 

It was much easier to enjoy the people on the street from behind a window. From the window, it was like a story book where Makoto could make up all the voices and thoughts. Makoto didn’t exist in this story book, but he could control almost every aspect of it. This was a very big responsibility. But, since Makoto didn’t have to also be a part of the story, he could figure things out without being worried about figuring himself out. It was sort of like when he was little. He didn’t have to pay attention to himself or what he should do or shouldn’t. He had Papa to do that for him. Makoto didn’t have to worry, he could just enjoy.

Something cold trickled and tickled down Makoto’s head, forcing a squeal past his lips. Straining his eyes the blonde could barely perceive the lilac beverage now perched upon his head with only Papa’s hand to secure it in place. 

“Boba?”

“Taro Boba.” Makoto practically cooed at the information, sloshing the milky beverage around with all his careless wiggles. Luckily Papa was able to protect Makoto and his boba tea without breaking a sweat. He ensured that the blonde had both hands around the cup before having him stand. Makoto was already sucking. 

Walking down crowded streets was easier with Makoto focusing on how many ways he could squish a bubble. Papa bobbed and weaved and Makoto teetered behind. A bird whistled and Makoto just had to point it out. 

“What kind of bird do you think it is?” Somewhere - far back in Makoto’s mind - he knew that Papa didn’t know anything about birds; he left that and all other “Makoto trivia” to when Makoto was big and strong. But that didn’t stop Makoto from asking and didn’t stop Papa from smiling.

“Probably some kind of sparrow,” he replied behind his coffee cup, gently squeezing Makoto’s forearm to keep him from wandering off to find the mysterious ‘sparrow’. 

As the coffee was sipped and the boba was sucked the crowds of people began to peeter away. With the people’s chatter becoming distant and the concrete slabs becoming cushiony grass, Papa allowed for a little more freedom. With the park coming upon them Makoto was barely restraining the urge to dash ahead of Papa and onto a swing. Last time he ran outside he tripped and fell and scraped his knee so badly it took three whole weeks to heal. Something that Papa was not happy about.

Not that he was upset at Makoto. No, Papa made sure to drive home the fact that he wasn’t mad at Makoto. Just worried. Papa would never be mad at Makoto for an accident regardless of what his face may look like to Makoto.

But even if Papa would never get mad at Makoto for an accident, Makoto still decided that the best option was to stay right by his Papa’s side until they were directly in front of the playground.

It made sense why no children came to this park anymore. While the equipment was sound it was not at all beautiful. Fire truck red paint had chipped off the jungle gym to reveal aged iron. The rubber of the swings had deformed slightly due to years under a blazing sun and frosty snow. Sharpie scribbles descricated the slide.

It was perfect. 

Makoto squirmed in place, little jitters flying through his body. He stomped his feet and rubbed his thumb against his middle finger. His eyes flickered to Papa as he waited with baited breath. 

“What are you still standing there for?” Makoto opened his mouth to answer but quickly snapped it shut again with a giggle. Silly Papa always teasing him. The little boy ran off, bee-lining it towards those aged monkey bars. 

He’s too tall now to hang from the monkey bars - he can easily grasp them without even standing on his tip toes - but that doesn’t mean he loves them any less. He climbed up to the top of the ladder and instead of hanging off the bars, he crawled along the top of them. He felt so wobbly on the bars. The blonde knew he could fall off at any moment and hit the unforgiving ground, but to feel wobbly, to feel unsure and precarious, was all a part of the pleasure. Besides, he knew that if he actually did fall, his Papa would be there to make everything better. Speaking of Papa…

“Papa! Look how high up I am!” Papa looked up from his phone which he had been glancing at. He uncrossed his legs and pushed himself off the tree he had been leaning on as he sauntered over to Makoto.

“You are up high baby! That’s amazing!” Makoto’s face flushed at the praise. Shakily, he took one hand off the bars to reach out to his Papa. His Papa met him halfway; gently gripping the little’s hand and rubbing Makoto’s knuckles despite the fact that it forced him to stand on his tip toes. 

Eventually though, Makoto’s short attention span had won out and he simply had to play on the other equipment. Papa had praised him endlessly when he managed to crawl backwards on the monkey bars and down the ladder. He gave him so much praise that Makoto had to dash off before he turned into a pile of mush. 

The next adventure was on the swings. He pushed once. Twice. Each time he pushed he soared higher and higher into the air. 

Papa came up behind him at some point. He took control of the tempo and the height of each swing. Occasionally Makoto would lean back to meet the other’s eyes. Papa was humming the theme song of the newest anime big Makoto had gotten him into. Something soft and sweet that the older had taken to humming whenever Makoto was small.

Suddenly, instead of pushing the swing, Papa grabbed it. “Do you want to try and jump off?” He asked when he met Makoto’s baffled stare. Makoto’s baby blue eyes widened. He squealed with delight as he kicked his legs. He wanted to fly!

“Ok ok! Calm down Angel, don’t want you falling off before we begin.” Papa struggled to contain the squirmy little but luckily, Makoto settled after a moment. Once he was sure that Makoto wasn’t at risk for tossing himself off, he let out a little sigh of relief. “Ok now when I count to three, you’re going to jump. Alright?” Makoto nodded vigorously.

Now Papa took one, two, three extra steps back up until he couldn’t get the swing to go any higher with Makoto in it. Makoto’s eyes crossed when he was almost parallel to the ground.

“One.” The first push sent him higher than any of the previous pushes.

“Two.” Makoto’s grip tightened on the chain-links.

“Three!” 

“Weee!”

Floomp. Makoto’s feet weren’t the first thing to hit the ground. A sharp and unexpected pain shot through his forehead and down his spine. His uncovered skin - his knees especially - stung. A little wood chip fell out of his hair when he finally managed to push himself up to his knees. There were the hurried crunches of feet on mulch until a cautious hand hovered over Makoto’s back. Blank blue eyes met searching gold. 

“Makoto, baby, are you ok?” Makoto blinked once. Twice. Then the dam burst.

“Pa-PAPAAA!” Flinging his arms, Makoto almost toppled his poor Papa as the little sobbed into the crook of the older’s arm. Luckily, Papa knew how to deal with his little boy.

“Oh baby, oh darling. You’re ok. You’re alright. Shhhh.” Papa kept whispering sweet nothings to Makoto as he rocked the two of them back and forth. They sat like that for a while - sat until Makoto’s sobs died down into little whimpers. Eventually, once all the tears and all the sniffles were gone, Papa shifted so he could look Makoto in the eye. The little was playing with his Papa’s shirt now, letting his fingers run up and down the silvery bumps. Occasionally he would pause to grip one before letting it go.

“You ok now baby?” A small nod. “All the bad emotions out?” Another nod. “Gonna smile for me now?” Makoto shrugged, looking away bashfully from his caregiver. Seeing an opportunity, Papa’s hands launched a tickle attack on Makoto’s sides. A bubble and then a shriek of laughter burst out of Makoto’s lungs. Papa tickled Makoto so hard that the poor baby fell backwards, but Papa just followed him down. 

Masaru was never this silly. He was tough and blunt and maybe just a little bit grumpy but never, ever silly. Makoto loved that about his boyfriend. But there was something special about the headspace Masaru got into when he became Makoto’s Papa. He smiled instead of smirked and his laughter was a little more genuine. Not that little Makoto thought that deeply about the matter. Little Makoto was too busy trying to catch his breath after Papa finally ceased his tickling rampage. 

Both of them were lying on their backs. Their chests were both heaving up and down. Makoto’s eyes darted over to meet Papa’s and he burst out in another fit of giggles. He rolled over onto his side so he could avoid looking at his Papa’s saccharine smile and glimmering eyes. A moment later he felt a warm weight against his back as a comforting arm threw itself over him. “Ready to go home now love?” The question was whispered directly into his ear.

Makoto let out an exaggerated hum in thought before responding, “I think I am Papa.” Nodding in confirmation, Papa let out a small groan as he forced himself on his feet. He extended his hand and Makoto gladly accepted it. They kept their hands locked together as Papa led Makoto away from the park.

The sun was already past the midway point in the sky as the pair made their way home. Like ribbons, both of Makoto’s arms wrapped around Papa's right arm. He had to bend slightly in order to rest his head on Papa’s shoulder. Few people roamed the streets now. All the families, all the lovers, everyone and anyone who had decided to go out on a weekend adventure were now safely tucked away in their homes. Papa didn’t say anything. Makoto played with his pant’s chains until they reached their humble abode.

Makoto had to be gently pried off of Papa so that he could unlock the door. He waited patiently while rocking back and forth. When the door finally clicked open, Papa let out a sigh of relief. Walking in with a groan, Papa stretched until each and every one of his joints cracked. Makoto didn’t flinch at the sound, jumping over the entryway as he entered the house. In a practiced motion the little stuck out his foot in front of him and with the same ease Papa knelt down to untie Makoto’s shoes. Makoto giggled - he always giggled when his shoes were taken off, as it always made him feel like Cinderella. 

Now with his feet clad just in socks and with his bag hung up, Makoto followed his Papa into the kitchen. The red head shuffled around with his little only a few inches behind him. Whenever Papa stopped, there was a chance Makoko would slam into his back. This actually happened when Papa opened the fridge door - Makoto let out a small ‘oomph’ and bounced back. 

Papa only turned his head so that he could glance at Makoto. “Honey, why don’t you go into the living room and play while I cook us some dinner?”

“No thank you Papa!” The oblivious response made it impossible for Papa not to chuckle. Grabbing a package of defrosted chicken Papa closed the fridge and backed up slow enough for Makoto to escape his path. 

“Ok then, how about you go get one of your toys and sit on the counter while I cook?” This compromise apparently satisfied Maktoto because, after a moment of hesitation, he darted off. “No running please!” The pace of the footsteps slowed.  
Coming to a sliding halt, Makoto appeared directly in front of his toy box. Squatting in front of the wooden chest Makoto put too much force into lifting the lid; the lid flew open and Makoto lost balance and fell softly on his butt. He let out a small giggle before continuing his search. 

Eventually the little settled on a bag of Legos. Making sure to walk when returning to the kitchen, Makoto made a show of getting on one of the bar chairs by the counter. He watched his Papa for a minute as the man stepped down from the stepping stool he was using to grab a bag of white rice. It wasn’t until his Papa was safely on the ground that Makoto began taking the Lego pieces out one by one. He organized them by colors first before deciding he would rather have them organized by color and size. Once Papa could no longer feel Makoto’s burning gaze, he turned to gaze at his adorable boy for a moment. Makoto was so absorbed in the pleasure of organization that Papa found it hard to turn away after a few moments.

By the time Makoto had finished his organization, he knew he was going to build a castle. One by one the blocks formed protective walls and the beginning of princess towers. Makoto was so lost in his ‘art’ that he didn’t notice his Papa creeping up behind him until he felt manicured nails running through his hair and massaging his scalp. The weight of Papa’s chest leaning against Makoto’s back was as reassuring as the warm breath tickling Makoto’s neck. 

“Castle?”

“Castle.”

“Hmph, well why don’t you put your castle aside while we have some dinner.” There was no room for arguments as the skeleton of the castle was pushed to the side in order to make room for the steaming bowl of chicken-fried rice. Makoto only hummed in response, kicking his feet gently. Papa sat opposite of him with his own bowl of rice. At first, Makoto twiddled with his Sailor Moon spoon. He eventually put it down though in favor of opening his mouth and waiting. Snorting, Papa easily complied with the silent request. Effortlessly he leaned over the counter in order to scoop a spoonful of Makoto’s rice with his own utensil. In turn Makoto opened his mouth wider so that Papa could easily spoon feed him. A spoonful for Makoto, a spoonful for Papa. 

“So who lives in the castle?” Papa asks between bites. 

“A prince!” Was the eager response.

“Oh? And what’s this prince’s name?” The prince’s name was Alphonse and he lived with his brother, sister, and mother. Papa knew this already. He knew the answers to all the questions he was asking - Makoto had built the same castle and come up with the same story at least a hundred times. Big Makoto was very imaginative - he was about to be published for crying out loud - but little Makoto relished in the safety and the structure that Big Makoto wouldn’t always allow himself.

When the rice was about halfway gone and Makoto began to yawn, Papa knew he needed to get his boy clean and into bed before he fell asleep sitting up. With an ease gained only by experience, Papa led Makoto by the hand down the hall.

“Papa the castle-”

“Will be there in the morning. Come on now.” And like an obedient puppy, Makoto went along quietly, not bothering to conceal his yawns. Once in the all white bathroom Makoto was easily hoisted up onto the sink counter. In the same motion and with efficient ease, Papa freed Makoto’s locks from the ribbon holding them. The ribbon was dropped and fluttered gently into Makoto’s hands as Papa booped his nose; the action sent Makoto into a fit of laughter that continued even after Papa turned away to turn on the bathtub. Soon the tiny room was filled with vanilla scented steam and Makoto’s chatter. 

First socks, then, after a bit of maneuvering, shorts and underwear, before finally the sweater was removed and Makoto was left as naked as the day he was born. Again, Papa held out his hand so that Makoto was supported as he entered the tub. Bubbles flew when Makoto first settled; a sparkly-blue rubber duckie was added when Makoto ceased squirming. 

The duckie sailed over the sea of foam as it was guided by the tips of Makoto’s fingers. Occasionally, the duckie would dive beneath the surface head first only to burst to the surface when Makoto released it. It was a struggle to pull Makoto’s hands away from the duckie when it was time for Papa to wash his arms. Fearful that the duckie would tip over, Makoto even refused to close his eyes when it was time to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. Luckily for both Makoto (and Papa), Papa always made sure to buy no-tear shampoo. 

Eventually though the water turned tepid and bath time was coming to a close. Grabbing Makoto’s Hangyodon towel with one hand, Papa helped Makoto up with the other. There was another, smaller towel that was the exact same shade of blue as Hangyodon to dry Makoto’s hair. Hair products were gently applied to still damp golden strands, and lotion was rubbed into delicate skin from top to bottom. Little or big it didn’t matter, Makoto’s skin routine was long. Luckily, Papa seemed to tap into some deep, limitless pool of patience that plain old Masaru couldn’t fathom. 

Leaving a naked Makoto to brush his teeth, Papa quickly went over to the bedroom Makoto used when little and sifted through the pajama’s drawer. After careful consideration Papa settled on a lavender nightie and matching cotton panties. By the time Papa came back to the bathroom Makoto was already rinsing the bubblegum toothpaste from his mouth. Makoto cooed when he saw his Papa’s choice in nighttime attire. He eagerly raised his arms, allowing the nightie to slide down gracefully until its lace trimming tickled his knees. He had to lift the nightie up to help Papa when he was sliding the panties up Makoto’s legs. 

Back in little Makoto’s bedroom, Makoto was asked to pick one story and one stuffed animal to take to bed - a very important decision for sure. Finally though, after some careful consideration, he came to a conclusion. He presented to his Papa “Prince & Knight” while clutching BahBah the sheep. Humming in affirmation Papa took the picture book from Makoto while the little climbed into bed and scuddled under the covers. Once everything was settled, Papa situated himself on top of the sheets before flipping the book open to the first page. 

Papa didn’t use special voices when reading but that didn’t matter - his voice was like honey regardless. The rise and fall of his voice was melodic. With each word Makoto’s eyes grew heavier and with each rustle of a turning page he sunk further into the mattress. It didn’t matter how hard Makoto tried (he didn’t try that hard), he couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open for the entire story. By the time Papa closed the book, Makoto was already far away in the land of dreams.

Letting the book drop with a soft thud on the bedside table, Papa leaned over Makoto’s sleeping figure. He placed a kiss on his boy’s slightly parted lips before straightening up with a groan. In a series of stretches he allowed today's adventure to seep out of him with each crack of a joint. His eyes never left Makoto’s prone form for long. 

Even when he was at the doorway and his hand was on the light switch, he still stared. Maybe he stared for a minute, maybe he stared for twenty. Eventually though, common sense told him it was time to go to bed. 

“Goodnight Makoto, I love you.” And with that, he switched off the light and closed the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> "also what's with the nightie and panties _' lol jk"  
> \- Big Brother 2020
> 
> (On another note, formatting this was a b***h. Let me know if there are any errors.


End file.
